Waiting on an Angel
by TowMondler
Summary: An accident leaves Monica unable to break out of the dreamworld that she's in...horrible summary, just try it out
1. Waiting on an angel

  


Hello all! The title comes from the song by Ben Harper and it's just a little idea that I had. I know that you thought that I had dropped off the face of the earth, and I assure you that I haven't, I just have been insanely busy and then I went to San Francisco with my dad and older brother and then Aruba with my friends (it was a graduation gift from my parents), and I'm back now. This idea just popped into my head, so enjoy and leave a little review if you can. Thanks!

  


Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, if I did, then I wouldn't be worrying about how to pay for college right now. 

  
  


"Monica!" She could hear her name being called. She spun around and saw her husband standing there waving to her. He was so close, and yet she couldn't reach him. She couldn't get to him. 

"Chandler?" She took a feeble step towards him. He encouraged her and she took another step. Where was she? Why did it feel as if a ton of bricks were attached to her feet and she couldn't move towards him? 

"Mon, we're all here. We're all waiting for you," he said smiling. All she wanted to do was get to him. Have him hold her. 

"Whose all here?" She asked confused. 

"The whole gang.....They're all here. And Ross and Rachel brought Emma. We're all waiting for you. So come on, Mon, come on." Monica looked around at her surroundings. She didn't recognize any of it. And it was so dark there, so very dark. It was becoming darker as she stood there, Chandler was beginning to become obscured by the darkness.

"Chandler?" She cried. Panicked seized her, and she felt as if she couldn't breathe. 

"Monica?"

"CHANDLER?" Her voice became a higher pitch as she ran forward in the dark. He wasn't answering. Why wasn't he answering? Why was it so dark? Monica began to cry. She felt the tears slide down her cheeks as she ran forward with her hands extended. "Chandler? Please, don't leave me, Chandler. Please come back.....please.....please come back." The tears slowed her running until she stopped completely and fell to the ground surrounded by black. "Chandler....come back....Chandler." 

  
  
  


_Waiting on an angel_

_one to carry me home_

_hope you come to see me soon_

_cause I don't want to go alone_

_I don't want to go alone_

  
  


Chandler sat next to the hospital bed and held his wife's hand. He brought it up to his mouth and gave it a kiss. A piece of hair fell over her face, and he pushed it back again. Ross, her brother, had just left with her best friend. 

"How is she?" A voice from behind pulled Chandler's attention from memorizing her face. 

"The same," Chandler responded not letting his sight waver from her. Joey came up and sat in the other chair that was pulled up to the bed. 

"You should go home and get something to eat and get some sleep."

"I want to be here," Chandler answered shaking his head. "I want to be here with her. What if she wakes up? I want to be here when she wakes up." Joey didn't speak the words that hung in the air.

What if she didn't wake up? 

So it hung there, unasked and unanswered. Joey finally stopped the campaign to get Chandler to leave her side, knowing that it was in vain. Wherever Monica was, there Chandler would be. It was that simple. And Chandler couldn't sleep. He knew undoubtably that he would have nightmares if he tried to close his eyes. Nightmares about what had happened. The image of his wife's lifeless body next to his in the battered car. The sound of her voice before she passed out from the pain. 

"Please don't leave me Chandler," she had pleaded. 

"Never," he had promised kissing her bloody forehead. And it was a promise that he intended to keep. 

  
  
  


_Now angel, won't you come by me_

_angel hear my plea_

_take my hand, lift me up so I can fly with thee_

_so that I can fly with thee_

  
  
  


Where was Chandler? Monica sat up with her head pounding. It wasn't dark anymore. She was in her apartment now. Her friends were all sitting there surrounding her husband who had his head in his hands and was crying. Why was he crying? Why wasn't she there to comfort him? She moved towards the couch where they were all sitting. She reached out to touch his face. 

"Why did she leave?" Chandler sobbed. Rachel rubbed a hand over his back. "Why did she leave me?"

"Who is he talking about?" Monica asked Phoebe, but Phoebe didn't answer. The realization hit her and she gasped. "Is he talking about me? But I'm right here! I'm right here, Chandler!" A sob made his entire body tremble. It was then that she noticed that all of her friends were wearing black. Joey, Ross, and Chandler were all in suits, and both Phoebe and Rachel were in black dresses. 

"What's going on?" She asked looking from Rachel to Chandler to her brother. "What is happening?"

"She didn't want to, honey," Rachel told him continuing to rub his back. "She didn't want to leave you." 

"We were supposed to have kids and grandchildren and grow old together." 

"I know," Phoebe murmured taking his hand in hers. "I know." 

"But I'm right here!" Monica cried reaching out to take his other hand which he brought up to his face. "I'm right here!" 

It was then that everything began to get really fuzzy again. She felt herself slipping away from Chandler and her friends. The apartment spun around and slid away from her grasp. 

  
  
  


_and I'm waiting on an angel_

_and I know it won't be long_

_to find myself in a resting place in my angel's arms_

_in my angel's arms_

  
  
  


Chandler walked exhausted into his apartment, finally taking up his friends' advice to rest. 

"You're no good to her like this," Ross had said. "You need to go home and rest so that you can be there when she wakes up." He dropped his keys in the dish on the counter and took off his jacket and made his way over to the bedroom. A white piece of paper caught his eye. It was laying on the table under the vase of flowers. Grasping it in his hand, he pulled it out from under and with a skipped beat of his heart saw that it was in her handwriting. 

"Chandler-" He read. "Could you please defrost the chicken for dinner? And pick up some milk on your way home. Thanks. Love you always, Monica." It had been from a few days before and he had never moved it. It was just a piece of paper. It was a stupid note that she had jotted down before leaving for work that morning, and yet it could be the last thing that he had from her. 

No. He couldn't think like that. She would be fine. She would wake up and everything would be okay. It had to be okay. There was no way that he could lose her. Everything that he ever wanted or needed was there in that hospital bed fighting for her life. Everything. He walked into their bedroom and collapsed on the bed and hugged her pillow to him and fell asleep crying. 

  
  
  


_So speak kind to a stranger_

_cause you'll never know_

_it might just be an angel come_

_oh knocking at your door, knocking at your door_

  
  
  


Monica was in a house now. A beautiful two-story house in the suburbs. White with blue shutters, and a mailbox with the name "Bing" written on it. Bing? That was her name? Curiously she made her way to the backyard where she could hear voices. 

"Daddy! Throw to me!" A little boy about six yelled holding out his opened glove. The outfit that he was wearing she recognized as a little leaguer's, and written in white letters across the blue top was what she guessed was the team's name: Blue Jays. She turned her head to face the person the little boy was addressing. 

There in all his uniformed glory was Chandler. He must be the coach, she thought to herself. She shook her head confused. Why did he call him Daddy? Where was she? 

"Okay Mike," Chandler said. "Hold the glove like this. Okay?" Mike, she guessed that was the little boy, held up his glove and braced himself for the throw. Chandler tossed it easily to him and he caught it.

"Look! I got it!" 

"Great job, buddy," Chandler said laughing as Mike did a little dance very reminiscent of his father. Monica laughed in spite of her confusion and watched as father and son danced around the backyard.

"What are you doing?" She heard a familiar voice call out from the deck. A gasp escaped from her throat when she realized that the voice was Rachel's. Rachel? 

"Hey Mommy, watch this!" Mommy? Monica felt as if the wind was knocked out of her. 

"That's great Mikey," she said laughing. She descended the stairs and came into the backyard with Chandler and Mike. They seemed happy, but there was something distant in Chandler's eyes. 

"Are you okay?" Rachel asked Chandler. So she could see it too? 

"Fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Fine," he repeated. 

"Cause today's the eighth anniversary...."

"I'm fine," he snapped. He dropped the glove in the yard and strode into the house. Monica followed him in and saw that he went upstairs. At the end of the hallway there was a closet door that he pulled open. As she overlooked, he pulled out a box and opened it to see a white album that Monica had seen before.

Their wedding album. 

Chandler flipped through the pages and she saw the tears the began to fall down his face. What was going on? Why was he with Rachel when clearly he loved her? The album fell to the ground as he stood and grabbed a pair of car keys. Gingerly, Monica climbed into the passenger seat next to him. 

A few minutes later, they pulled up to a cemetery. Chandler slammed the car door shut and walked a little ways to a grave. Kneeling next to her husband, Monica read what was engraved in the stone. For the second time, she felt as if the wind was knocked out of her and she couldn't breathe. 

"Beloved wife, daughter, and friend," she read. "Monica Bing. November 22, 1971- August 17,2003." 

  
  
  


_and I'm waiting on an angel_

_and I know it won't be long _

_to find myself in a resting place in my angel's arms_

_in my angel's arms_

_Waiting on an angel_

_one to carry me home_

_hope you come to see me soon_

_cause I don't want to go alone_

_I don't want to go alone_

  
  
  


~*Are you confused yet? Oh, good, my dears. Do you like it? I hope that you do. So if you are so kind, please drop me a note and tell me what you think and if you want me to keep going. Thanks~*


	2. Golden Slumbers

Thanks for the reviews! Here is the next part and please review again and tell me what you thought about it. It would make my day a thousand times better! Thanks! Oh, and the song in this one is by the Beatles....well, at least I think that it is. I heard the Ben Folds version, but I'm fairly sure that it was a Beatles cover. 

  


Disclaimer: Check the first chapter, characters-not mine. Got that? Want to go over it once more? Characters-not mine. 

  
  


"You look refreshed," Phoebe said when Chandler came in after his nap. That was a lie, of course, they both knew it. He looked worse, if that was even possible, than before he had left. Sleep hadn't come to him, instead nightmares had. The images that would be burned forever in his head. Memories of what had happened. 

It had been a wonderful night, that night. Or it had started out wonderful, at least. Monica had gotten off work early, and Chandler suggested that they go out to dinner. Claiming that he never got to see her anymore, and she had agreed. She wore a red dress. He'd remember that red dress for the rest of his life. The way it had gotten darker when the blood spread. 

"How do I look?" She had asked. 

"Stunning," he had replied truthfully. Blushing, Monica had taken his arm and they climbed into the Porsche. After a lovely dinner, Chandler had climbed into the driver's side and pulled out of the parking lot. They had gone into the suburbs for a change, and enjoyed the scenery on the drive home. He had been driving too fast, he admitted that later, but the other car cruised through the red light crashing right into them. Right into her. When Chandler had woken up, she was lying next to him covered in blood. Her blood. 

"Monica? Monica? Are you okay?" Of course she wasn't. He could see the blood soaking the red dress, her face covered in blood from a head wound. His hands brushed over her face pushing the dark hair out of the way. When he pulled it back, his fingers were covered in sticky blood.

"Chandler?" She had moaned opening her eyes ever so slightly. 

"Mon? Everything is going to be okay, I promise you. Everything is going to be fine." He didn't know why he was promising something that he knew that he might not be able to keep, but she whimpered and he clasped her hand in his and made that promise again. It would be fine. It would be okay. He promised. 

"It hurts," she whispered.

"What hurts baby?"

"Everything. Everything hurts Chandler." 

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," he began to sob and repeat that refrain. "I'm so sorry." I'm so sorry. Sorry. Sorry. The word echoed in his head. God, he would have done anything to switch places with her. Why hadn't he let her drive that night? She had suggested it, why hadn't he taken her up on that offer? 

" Please don't leave me, Chandler." He leaned forward and dropped a kiss on her bloody forehead. 

"Never." And there he had stayed, right by her side as the ambulance came and did their best to get them out, and he left briefly while they checked him out to find that he had a minor concussion, but he had been back. Sitting by her bedside every day. He was fine, psychically, but Monica, the impact had happened on her side. Three days. Three days now had passed since he saw those beautiful blue eyes of hers. Three days that felt like an eternity. And every day he lost more hope. He glanced at a calendar. August 17. 

Chandler snapped back to reality and saw that Phoebe was looking at him with concern written all over her features. 

"Is she okay? Any change?" He asked taking his seat next to Monica's bed. 

"No change," Phoebe reported shaking her head. 

"She'll be okay, Pheebs," he told her. "She'll be okay." But he didn't know who believed it less, him or her. 

  
  


_Once there was a way_

_to get back homeward_

_once there was a way_

_to get back home_

  
  
  


She was dead? How was that possible? 

"Oh Chandler," she breathed leaning forward to catch his hand as he ran it over the letters. Her hand slipped right through his. "I'm so sorry, honey. I'm so sorry." It had been the same thing that he had repeated when they had crashed. I'm so sorry.

"Monica?" He spoke and she nearly jumped in surprise.

"Yes?" Chandler could see her? Could he hear her? "Honey, I'm right here."

"Oh, Mon, I miss you so much. I love you so much. I mean, Rachel was there for me and everything after you died and it just sort of happened....you know, she got pregnant with Michael and we got married, but I never stopped loving you. She knows that. She knows that she comes second. She told me that she can never compete with you. There's a piece of my heart that only you carry. Oh God, Monica! I'm sorry. I was going too fast that night, and I should have been paying more attention. I would have seen him run that red light, I would have seen it coming. I could have swerved out of the way....I could have...." 

"Honey, it's not your fault," she told him. But his attention wasn't towards her, it was towards the grave. Realization struck as she figured out that he couldn't see her, he was talking to her grave. His demeanor suddenly changed.

"Why did you leave me? We were supposed to grow old together! I loved you! I loved you with everything that I had, why did you go? Why did you...." his voice trailed off as he fell to his knees and sobbed horrible sobs that racked his entire body. Tears slipped down her face as she tried to embrace him. 

"I'm sorry," she repeated again. I'm so sorry." __

  
  
  


_sweet, pretty darling_

_do not cry_

_I will sing a lullaby_

  
  
  


The sound of beeps filled his senses. The same beeps that had lulled him off to sleep earlier now woke him up. Joey was there this time. Sitting holding her hand on the other side of the bed, and talking to her. Telling her stories, as if she could hear. As if at any second, she would wake up and smack him on the back of the head for being an insensitive jerk. 

"Joe?" Chandler struggled to sit up and rub the sleep from his eyes.

"Hey. I didn't wake you did I?" 

"No. When did you come?"

"A little while ago. They just brought her back." 

"Where was she?" It was a good thing that he hadn't woken up when she was away, he would have panicked to see her empty bed thinking and fearing the worse.

"To get some tests."

"Did they say anything? Did they tell you when she was going to wake up?" Joey shook his head.

"Sorry." Chandler slumped back against the chair and ran a hand through his hair.

"Telling her stories?"

"Yep. The ones that you wouldn't tell her." Joey grinned mischievously. 

"What wouldn't I tell her?"

"Oh you know, the stories about Kathy and the time that you two got caught...."

"Enough! You're telling her those?"

"I thought that maybe if she got angry enough she would wake up to kill you," Joey shrugged. Chandler shook his head and almost laughed at the vision of Monica sitting up and grabbing him by the neck and trying to strangle him. Anything, he would give anything to see her wake up.

"That's a good plan Joey," he told him seriously.

"I'm going to get some coffee," Joey told him standing up and stretching. "Want some?"

"Sure." Chandler nodded and Joey left the room leaving Chandler alone with his slumbering wife. If only she was just slumbering, if only it was that easy. If only he could lean over and give her a kiss on the lips and see her eyelids flutter open. 

"Oh Mon. What are you dreaming about? Wake up, baby. Please, please wake up now." 

  
  
  


_golden slumbers fill your eyes_

_smiles awake you when you rise_

_sweet, pretty darling_

_do not cry_

_I will sing a lullaby_

  
  
  


Blinking, Monica looked around. She wasn't in the graveyard anymore. It was a house again, but it wasn't Chandler and Rachel's. It was white, with a swing set in the back yard. It was her house. And there she was, a little five year old. This was before she had ballooned to the size of a baby elephant. She was still little here, and playing with her dolls in the backyard. Ross came running through and grabbed it.

"Hey! You big meanie!" She cried jumping to her feet. "Give it back! Give it back now!" 

"Make me," Ross taunted getting ready to rip off the doll's head. "All you do is play with these dolls. You have no real friends. No one wants you. Not even Mom and Dad." The words stung and angered both Monicas even more. 

"Now!" Monica, the five year old, demanded stomping over to him and whapping him hard on the arm. "I said now." Yanking it out of his grip, she stuck out her tongue and hurried back over to the rest of her dolls and scooped them in her arms and ran away from Ross. Monica knew where the five-year-old version of herself was going. And she followed the little girl as she ran through the woods ignoring the branches that whipped back at her and stung her face. She followed her all the way down to the stream at the end with the weeping willows hanging over making a canopy. The little girl climbed underneath, and the adult Monica followed inside. Dropping the dolls to the dirt floor, little Monica fell with them covering her face and sobbing. 

"One day," she told her dolls. "We're going to be married, and wanted. And our prince charming will do anything to protect us. And he'll open the door for us and pull out our chair for us, just like Daddy does for Mommy. And we'll have kids ourselves, but I'm not going to love one more than another. I'll love them all the same, and they'll know it. And they'll know that their dad loves their mom more than anything else in the world. They'll know that they're wanted. And we'll be wanted, really we will be, and he'll be so sad if we leave him, but we won't. We won't ever leave him, because we'll be meant to be, as Rachel says. And that means that we'll never be apart, because we can't be apart, because it hurts to be apart." And as her tears fell, so did the adult Monica's.

"We have that," Monica whispered to the little girl. "We have a husband that pulls out our chair for us, and protects us. And it wasn't his fault. The accident wasn't his fault." The memory came rushing back to her and the world began to spin, and she closed her eyes and wished for it to stop. 

  
  
  


_once there was a way _

_to get back homeward_

_once there was a way_

_to get back home_

  
  
  


"She looks so beautiful when she's sleeping, doesn't she?" Chandler asked Joey when he returned holding the two cups of coffee. 

_ "_Yes," Joey agreed. "She does."

_ "_I just want her to wake up," Chandler told him breaking down into sobs. "I just want to hold her in my arms again and tell her that I'm here and that I will do anything to protect her."

"I know," Joey said reaching out and placing a hand on his friend's back. "I know. We all do. We all want her to wake up."

"You don't understand though!" Chandler looked up at Joey. "She's my everything. She's my world. That's my world right there Joe, that's my reason for living." Joey wanted that. Joey wanted what they had, and he wanted them to still have it. He wanted Monica to wake up. Because Chandler was right, he needed her. He wasn't complete without her. 

"I do, Chandler," he assured him. "I do understand how much you love her."

"Do you think that she does? Do you think that she knew how much I loved her?"

"I'm sure of it."

"Are you?"

"As positive of that as I am that the Knicks are the best team in the NBA." Chandler had to laugh at Joey's comparison. 

"Good."

"And she loves you. She won't leave you without a fight," Joey said gently. "She'll fight with everything that she has."

"What if its not enough?" Chandler asked finally admitting what he had been thinking all along.

"It will be." And Joey sounded so sure, so certain that Chandler didn't argue, couldn't argue. 

  
  
  


_sweet, pretty darling_

_do not cry_

_I will sing a lullaby_

  
  
  


She was standing in the middle of the street now. Monica could feel the asphalt beneath her feet and could see the traffic light above her. She wasn't just in any street, she realized, she was in _the_ street. The street where the accident had happened. Everything came rushing back to her. The sound of tires screeching against the pavement and the sound of a scream. She whipped around, it was her screaming. She had been the one whose screamed pierced the night air. The other driver wasn't hurt. A little dazed maybe, but not hurt. Not seriously at least. As soon as he got his wits together again, he dialed for an ambulance, but she wasn't watching him, she was watching her husband lean over her own body and plead with her to wake up and be okay. 

"Please don't leave me Chandler," she heard. And she heard him promise. 

"Never," he had promised. "I'll never leave you." Monica's entire body filled with sharp pains, making her double over and fall onto the black street. The world swirled around her once more. Everything hurt, everything hurt so much. 

"I'm sorry Chandler," she whispered. "It hurts. It just hurts too much. It just hurts." The pain was too much, sobs racked her body. The pain was blinding, but she could hear something. Someone. She could see the hotel room in London. She could see herself dancing around with a turkey on her head, and then Chandler proposing the first time, and she could see Vegas, and the dice on the floor. Then, oh, the last proposal, the one that she said yes to. And her wedding, and Chandler. She could see Chandler, and he was smiling at her and telling her it was okay. Everything would be okay.

And then everything went black.

  
  
  


~*Don't you just love cliffhangers? I love cliffhangers. But, okay, okay, I'll hurry up and write the next part, but only if you review. You have to review! Do you think that she's dead? Hmm? I don't know! Okay, now I'm just being mean, but leave me a little note. Thanks! *~


	3. Smiles awake you when you rise

~* Thanks again for the reviews, you people are the best! Here is the next part ,please review and tell me what you think and if I should keep going. Okay? Okay. Enjoy!~*

  


Disclaimer: Right, I own them. Use your head people! It's not just a hat rack, friends. Seriously, though, not mine. 

  
  


"What's going on?" Chandler jumped up from his seat when machines all around him began going on. 

"Sir, we need you to leave," the nurse said leading him gently out of Monica's room. 

"What's happening?" Ross and Rachel ran up beside him.

"I don't know! All of a sudden everything sort of went crazy. They won't tell me anything!" Rachel reached out and grasped his hand. Leaning forward, she placed her head on his shoulders in a hug.

"It'll be okay. She'll be okay."

"You keep saying that! How do you know? How do you know that she'll be okay? I don't know that! I don't know anything!" He slumped down into the seat outside her room and covered his face with his hands. "I just want her." Exchanging a look with Ross, Rachel slipped down to sit next to him. 

"We know, Chandler, we love her too. You're not the only one whose losing her," Ross yelled at him running a hand through his hair and walking away from the two sitting closely together on the bench. 

"Should I go after him?" Chandler asked looking up at her with glistening tears in his eyes.

"No, he needs some time by himself. He's right though, Chandler, we're all in the same boat."

"No, I love her."

"And so do I! Not like you do, but I've known her since I was three, Chandler, she's my best friend, and Ross's sister.....we all love her. " 

"But...." Throwing a glance back at the window where the doctors were trying to save his wife, he shrugged helplessly. "She's everything to me. She's my wife, but she's.....I love her more than life. I would do anything for her, and I've failed her. I failed to protect her!" Rachel shook her head vehemently. 

"No, you couldn't have stopped that car."

"I was going too fast."

"So?"

"Maybe we would have just missed him if I'd been going the speed limit." Rachel could finally understand the extent of his guilt. He had been driving, he had been speeding, if only's were running through his head. If only he had been going a little slower....if only she had been driving. 

"You can't think like that....if you were speeding faster you might have missed him too, it wasn't your fault.....he ran the red light. It was his fault. And you couldn't have known."

"But I....but I....it's not....it's....." Chandler's voice trailed off as he buried his head in his hands and twisted his wedding ring around his finger. She had to be okay. The same thing kept repeating through his head. If she wasn't okay....he couldn't live.....he couldn't live without her. It was simply an impossibility. The door opened to her room and Chandler jumped to his feet. 

"What's happening? Is she okay? What's going on with my wife?" He nearly attacked the nurse standing walking out.

"Calm down, sir. We've stabilized her again, and you can go in and see her now."

"What happened?" Rachel asked standing up next to him. 

"Her heart rate dropped a little, but she's fine now." Fine. She was fine? Chandler wanted to throw something hard at this woman. How was she fine? She wasn't fine! She was dying. How was that fine? Running a hand through his hair, he managed to squelch the urge to punch the nurse and nodded. The faster she left, the faster that he could get in to see Monica. He practically sprinted next to her side and took hold of her hand. 

"Monica? Are you in there? Can you hear me? I need you to wake up now. It's been long enough. I get it. I need you, I can't live without you. Okay, lesson learned, wake up. Please wake up. I love you, I can't wait to have children with you. I can't wait to have little girls that have your eyes and your smile, I want to see your smile, please smile. Please smile for me." And with that he dropped his head down onto her bed repeating the same thing over and over again. Please smile for me. Please. 

  
  
  
  


Monica could hear his voice, but she couldn't see him. And she couldn't get to him. No matter what, she just couldn't get to him. 

"Chandler?" She tried to speak but no sound came out. 

"Please smile," his voice told her. "I want to see you smile for me." What was he talking about? Why was it so dark? Why couldn't she see anything? She couldn't see Chandler, and she couldn't see where she was. 

"Chandler?" She tried again, but it was useless. She couldn't remember a time when she had been so frightened. And in so much pain. She ached all over. It was sharp pains that would subside to just a dull pain, but it was there. Constantly there. 

"I want to go home," she whispered to herself. "I just want to go home." The dark. Why did it have to be dark? She hated the dark. A memory of Ross teasing her about the dark when she was little popped into her mind. Always had hated the dark, even when she was little. Being alone in the dark was even worse. She hated being alone in the dark. 

"How is she?" Different voice this time. Ross. Her brother! 

"Ross!" No sound again. All she wanted was Chandler. She wanted him to take her in his arms and hold her. But Chandler couldn't hear her. Her entire body felt heavy, and her eyelids felt like there were ten ton weights on top. No matter what she couldn't open those eyes. Trying to move a single finger used up all of her energy, and she just gave up. Just simply gave up. So instead, she just laid there listening to their voices, trying desperately to open her eyes. 

  
  
  
  
  


Chandler held her hand through that night. When he woke up the next morning in the uncomfortable chair, his back hurt, but his hand was still tightly wrapped around hers. 

"Come on, Mon," it was begging now. Pleading with her to wake up, pleading with God, although he had never been an extraordinarily religious person, pleading with someone to make her wake up. Make her be okay. 

"How is she this morning?" Rachel asked handing him a cup of coffee which he took gratefully. Chandler shrugged. That's all he could do. She wasn't okay, but she wasn't dead. Her condition lie somewhere in that vast middle area. 

"Think she can hear me?" Chandler asked Rachel. 

"I think so, yeah. Yeah, she can hear you." Turning around, Rachel pulled up a chair to the bed and sat down next to her best friend. 

"Let's try talking to her," Chandler suggested. "Explain to her why she has to wake up."

"That's a good idea," Rachel told him smiling. "You want to go first?"

"No. You can go first."

"Okay," Rachel shifted in her seat and turned her attention to Monica. "Hey Mon. It's me. Listen, we really need for you to wake up because....well, Chandler's dying here," she cringed at her word choice. "Oh God, bad choice of words, huh? I never was good at figuring out the right thing to say. We all miss you Monica. We all want you back. And you should see the state of this room, it's despicable! Dirty floors, unclean sheets.....I thought that would work. I thought that make you wake up ready to clean the entire hospital top to bottom." At this, Chandler gave a small smile and encouraged her to continue. "No? Going to be stubborn, huh? Fine, be that way." Rachel swallowed back a sob and closed her eyes. Jumping up out of her seat, she apologized to Chandler and escaped from the room. He didn't ask her why she was going, and he didn't try to stop her. 

"Just me and you now, gorgeous," he said. "I really hope that you're enjoying this little siesta you're having, but I need for you to open your eyes. Or...you know what? We'll start out small, just move a hand for me. No go? How about a finger? It can even be the middle one. In fact, flick me off! Go right ahead! Now is your chance. Better seize it babe, an opportunity to give your husband the bird with no repercussions only happens once in awhile....listen, I just need you. Okay? That's all. I just need you, and if you go....then....what am I left with?" Closing his eyes, he rested his head against the back of the chair. "And Mon...these chairs are horrible, nothing like the Barcalounger. But I'm not leaving, I'm not leaving until you wake up." 

  
  
  


Rachel was there with him, Monica could hear her voice mingled with his. And she longed to talk to her best friend and trade gossip and fashion advice. She longed to open her eyes. 

"Chandler?" No sound again. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get her mouth to move and form the words that she was thinking. 

"I want to go home," she thought it again. Home. Her home. The purple apartment that Chandler complained over and over again was too feminine.

"What did you think would happen when you moved in with a girl?" She had teased. He was talking about a chair now. Why was he talking about a chair? Where were they? And most importantly, why couldn't she open her eyes? 

"Chandler," she was fighting her own mouth now, demanding that it open and speak his name. "Chandler." Maybe if she thought it hard enough than it would work. So that's what she tried. She thought about Chandler, and her friends. She thought about the future she had seen, without her, and the future that she wanted. Kids, a little girl and a little boy. Daniel and Natalie, she had always liked the name Natalie. Then she thought about the past, and her promise to herself that she would have a husband who loved her more than life itself, and she had that. If only she could say his damn name. 

"Chandler," again no luck, but she focused her thoughts. Their wedding, and their friends, and Emma. Her little niece Emma. And Chandler. Long and hard, she thought about Chandler. 

"Chandler," and this time it worked. It was soft, and she still was fighting to open her heavy eyelids, but she had said his name. 

  
  
  
  


The sound came so distant that he thought he hadn't heard it at all. So quiet that he thought that maybe he had imagined it completely. But there it was again. His eyes flew open and he squeezed her hand. 

"Monica?"

"Chandler?" It was soft, but it was there. Her eyelids fluttered open and the blue eyes blinked in confusion. 

"Monica? Oh God, Mon? Thank God. Honey, hold on let me go get the doctor." Weakly she nodded and licked her dry lips. "Please don't go back to sleep, honey. Just hold on one minute." He jumped up out of his chair so quickly that he got caught up in it and both him and the chair tumbled over. She would have laughed if she had enough energy to do so, but as it was, she simply smiled at him.

"Chandler, take your time." 

"Right, I'll be right back." After righting the chair again, he bounded from the room and out into the hall. 

  
  
  


"I'm so sorry Monica," Chandler said after the doctor had left the room. Chandler couldn't take his eyes off of her. Couldn't tear his sight away from her blue eyes. 

"For what?" She asked.

"For the accident...."

"It wasn't your fault."

"But....I almost lost you....and...." 

"Listen, I saw the future without me and it sucked okay, so I wasn't going anywhere without a fight. You had nothing to worry about."Taking his hand she held it tightly.

"You saw the future?"

"I dreamt it," she explained. "And you were married, and you had a son, but you were....."

"Miserable?" He finished for her.

"Not exactly, but you weren't exactly happy either. And I saw myself, when I was little and I told myself then that I would have a prince of a husband who opened doors for me and pulled out my chair and loved me more than anything else, and was just the perfect man. And you know what?"

"Hmm?" He was intoxicated by the sound of her voice. He could have sat there for hours simply listening to her. 

"I got him. Maybe not perfect....a little too sarcastic, but for all intents and purposes, I got exactly what I wanted." Chandler dropped a kiss onto her forehead. 

"So did I," he told her softly. "Now you should get some sleep. But remember to wake up in the morning." Grinning, she nodded. 

"Will do." 

"Mon?" He had to know one more thing before she drifted off to sleep.

"Hmm?"

"Who was I married to?" 

"What?"

"In the future, in your dream, who was I married to? I can't imagine marrying anyone else."

"Well, you married Rachel, because you got her knocked up." Satisfied with the look on Chandler's face, Monica closed her eyes and fell asleep. 

~*Okay, if you would like another chapter, then please, by all means tell me so. But in order to tell me so you need to press that little button right there. See it? It's awful pretty, and so all you have to do is press it and drop a note and I will oblige...I was thinking an epilogue? Maybe? Thanks! ~*


	4. Once upon a dream

Okay, you asked for a epilogue and I deliver : ) So kindly review and tell me what you thought about it. Thanks! 

  


Disclaimer: I don't necessarily own them...own is such a permanent word, I prefer borrow. 

  
  


At the end of a cul-de-sac, in a upper middle class neighborhood, sat a white house with blue shutters with a mailbox that had the name of the family engraved on it's side. Bing. In the backyard of this fairly large house, stood a man wearing a blue t-shirt with the word "coach" written on the front. A little boy, around seven or so, stood across from him with his glove outstretched and waiting for his father to toss him the ball. He was wearing his uniform for little league. 

"Okay, kiddo," his father instructed him. "Stand up straight and keep your eye on the ball."

"Gotcha," the little boy replied seriously. At only seven, he was a tiny replica of his father. 

Inside the house sat a woman with light brown hair at the kitchen table. She kicked her foot to an invisible beat as a blonde woman next to her folded up a checkered table cloth and placed it inside a basket for the game. 

"Emma? Are you ready to go to your brother's game?" The first woman called into the living room. The little girl, around ten, came running in. Stopping short of her mother's chair, she placed her hands on her hips. 

"Do I have to go?" She whined. "I don't want to go. Michael's games are so boring. All we do is just sit there and watch. Can't I stay here?"

"No." If looks could kill, Emma would have murdered her mother right there with the glare that she gave her. 

"Why not?" 

"Because you have to go and support your brother." Emma scoffed, this wasn't a very good reason, and she said as much. 

"But...."

"No buts. Now, turn around and go get your shoes on. You are going. End of story, we're all going, who would stay here with you?" Emma looked around the kitchen at the adults standing there. She bit her lip. Putting on her best pouting face, she turned to her father who was leaning up against the counter. 

"Daddy?" Her father, Ross, shook his head. 

"Nope, I'm going to the game." With a huge, heaving sigh, Emma turned around and left the kitchen and walked into the living room to put on her shoes. 

"I swear that child will be the death of me," her mother, Rachel sighed exasperated with her oldest child who far from the sweet little girl she used to be, was turning out to be quite the handful.

"Wait until she reaches her teenage years," the blonde, Phoebe, told her laughing. "She's only ten."

"I was never this bad at ten," Rachel argued. "Ross? Were you?"

"I was always the little gentleman," he replied with a mischievous grin. Joey, Phoebe's husband, gave a snort. 

"Gentleman?" 

"It's true," Ross argued. 

"No, it's not, don't listen to a thing he says," Chandler stepped in from outside with his son following closely behind him. 

"How would you know?" Ross asked turning to face him.

"I've heard stories," Chandler revealed grinning. Ross's face turned bright red and knowing that he had lost, he slumped into a chair. 

"Are we all ready to go?" Joey asked looking around the room. 

"Almost," a voice called from the living room. "Let me just get Natalie's shoes on." Chandler smiled as he always did at the sound of his wife's voice. A voice that he almost never got to hear again. Monica walked into the kitchen and rubbed a hand over her husband's back as she held their four-month-old Natalie's carrier. Their middle child, Elisabeth, who was four, came running in with Phoebe and Joey's daughter Rene. 

"Ready," she said smiling at him. "Sam? You ready to go?" Her son nodded and his cousin Michael ran in from where he was changing and the two boys, only less than two months apart in age, bolt from the house to Monica and Chandler's minivan sitting in the driveway. 

"Can I hold the baby?" Rachel asked Monica. Monica smiled and Rachel picked up Natalie from the carrier and held her in her arms. "I want another one. Ross? Can I have another one?" Ross gave her a look and raised an eyebrow. 

"You want another one? You who said after Mike that you would have another baby if pigs fly."

"Well," Rachel huffed indignantly. "Things change. Don't they little girl?"

"We're going to be late," Sam opened the front door and yelled in. 

"Right, we're coming," Monica called back grabbing the picnic basket and diaper bag. Chandler grabbed the cooler and they all trooped out of the house. 

"Can Elisabeth ride with us?" Rene asked her mother. Phoebe nodded and the girls ran towards Phoebe's taxi, which Monica was shocked still ran after all these years. 

"Seat belt, Elli," Monica called to her daughter as she placed Natalie in her car seat. Michael and Sam clambered into the very back of the van and could be seen in the back laughing and whispering as Chandler pulled out of the driveway. From the time of the accident on, he always drove the speed limit and was always extremely cautious when Monica or his kids were in the car with him. He ran a hand over her cheek which she captured in her own. The car was silent, with the occasional outburst from the boys in the back, and in the silence, Monica took a hold of her husband's hand and squeezed it tightly. 

  
  
  


"That was a good game, coach," Monica teased on the way home. For a victory celebration, they had stopped for pizza and now were on their way home. Sam was in the very back by himself fast asleep, and Elisabeth and Natalie were in the middle both also in dreamland. Chandler drove through the silent streets and smiled at his wife. 

"Thank you. We had a great cheerleading squad." She grinned at that comment. 

"I'm so exhausted," she moaned slightly lying her head back against the seat. 

"Go to sleep then," he instructed. 

"And leave you all by yourself? The only one awake? Not very nice..." she yawned loudly. 

"I can handle it, go to bed."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. You have about forty five minutes to sleep."

"I hate these away games," she said yawning again.

"Go to sleep." And without any more arguing, she fell fast asleep. 

When he pulled up to the house forty-five minutes later, he shook her gently.

"Hey, Mon. Wake up, we're home." She blinked her eyes and yawned. 

"I'll get Nat, you get Elisabeth and we'll make Sam walk," she told him as she climbed out of the van and pulled open the sliding door to pick up her youngest daughter. 

"Hey Sam," Chandler whispered as he gathered Elisabeth in his arms. "Wake up kiddo." Sam blinked his eyes, and in that moment looked exactly like his mother. Climbing out of the back, Chandler helped Sam onto the ground and took his hand as they all walked into the house. 

  
  
  


"Did I ever tell you I dreamt of this house?" Monica asked as they were climbing into bed.

"You dreamt of this house?"

"Yeah, only you didn't live here with me. You lived here with Rachel.....I never told you that?"

"You told me that you dreamt that I was married to Rachel," he said rubbing a hand over her back. 

"But it wasn't exactly a dream," Monica argued. "It was....sort of an almost reality, you know? Like what would happen if I didn't wake up."

"But you did."

"But I did." She was quiet for a moment. "I also dreamt about my childhood. Something that had actually happened. And it was so strange, I could hear you, but I couldn't get to you. So strange." Shaking her head, she leaned over to turn out the light. Chandler wrapped his arms around her. 

"I was so scared that something....I couldn't live without you, Monica. You know that right? You know that I can't live without you."

"Yeah, I know." She grinned at him. 

"Oh, you do?" He rolled over and pinned her to the bed. As he leaned down to give her a kiss, Natalie's cries interrupted them. 

"I'll get her," Chandler said sitting up.

"Unless you figured out someway to breast feed her," Monica said throwing her legs over the side of the bed. "I have to go get her." And Chandler watched her walk out of the room and his eyes never left her. The truth was that he didn't want to think about what she had dreamed, because he really didn't want to have to think about a future without her.

There was no future without her. 

She was everything. 

When she walked back into the bedroom a few minutes later she crawled in next to him.

"Penny for your thoughts?" 

"Just thinking."

"About?"

"Life."

"That's pretty deep," she replied smiling at him. "Not usual nighttime thinking, was it something that you....."

"I love you," he interrupted. Smiling softly at him, she ran her hand along the side of his face.

"I love you too." And as he kissed her and she fumbled for the lights, she thought to herself, I got it. I'm wanted. One of the best thoughts in the entire world, to know that you are wanted. And Monica knew that right then. That she was wanted, and loved, and treasured above all other things. And knowing this, and smiling, she fell into his embrace. 

  
  


~*I hoped that you liked it! I have to go dorm room shopping now!!!! Yay! So please leave a review, thanks!~*


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